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She stands on the threshold,
bare feet on rocks;
cap on cranium,
hands on hips,
baby in belly,
toddler secure on the sand.
Waves lap at her shins,
cooling off her torrid skin,
calling her to go deeper;
waves like the placenta
keeping her baby safe inside.
She walks to deeper water,
leaving her toddler at the shore;
allowing cool water to envelop her,
letting the ocean protect her,
giving her strength to carry on.
Photo by Timothy Meinberg on Unsplash.
I loved this photo essay from the New York Times showing people reading outside. It made me start thinking about all the many places we read as the month goes by. Here’s a glimpse of where (and what) we’re reading this month.
Where (and what) are you reading this month??
Technically this one was from the tail end of July, but I’m sneaking it in here anyway. I got an entire week away from my children to do nothing but eat and read and think about food and faith and do a little bit of writing in between. I even got to meet the author of Soil and Sacrament. The whole week was a dream and I want to relive it over and over again.
August began on the road. Fourteen hours in the car meant I blew through The Cartographers in record time. (5 of 5 stars. Highly recommend!)
Right about the time we learned we all had Covid, the dog got neutered. Books have been my sanity this month. Even if it means I have to sit on the floor with a sick dog in my lap to read Lessons in Chemistry. (Also 5 of 5 stars. Best book I’ve read this year!)
The one plus side to the entire family being quarantined together? There’s lots of time for reading on the porch.
“Mama, I’ll help you this morning. I’ll read poetry to Leo while you make breakfast. Maybe he’ll like my favorite pancake poem.”
As soon as quarantine was over, we hit the beach. I tucked The Song of Achilles into my beach bag.
There have been many hours reading on the couch this month, holding the dog’s leash so he didn’t jump or run.
I’m not sure what Leo hated most, his surgery suit or being forced to “say cheese.” He did enjoy Black Beauty, though.
I brought Joan to the beach and read while the girls collected rocks one cloudy afternoon.
I also did some calendar planning while we were there. That’s reading too, right? I mean, there are books involved…
She was in the car no less than thirty seconds after gymnastics when she picked up her Wings of Fire book and began reading. I’m not even sure what book in the series she’s on right now…
When the temperature finally fell below 90, I kicked the kids outside for the day. When I brought them a freshly-baked cookie, I discovered them all outside, in the shade, reading The Miscalculations of Lightning Girl, Tuesdays at the Castle, and Story Thieves.
Somehow even if it’s 85-degrees on land, you need a sweatshirt at the beach in August while you read your book club book: This Is How It Always Is.
My sister told me she wanted her daughter to read more. I brought her to Massachusetts and took her to the beach. She tucked The Miscalculations of Lightning Girl in her bag. “I just can’t put it down!” she said.
The weather has finally cooled off for the year, and I’m spending every moment possible on the back porch. I might actually finish Joan by the end of the month.
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Gentle waves lap on the smooth sand, composing a soft lullaby on the shore. It’s a few hours after low tide. I’m lounging in my new backpack beach chair reading a book; the sand warm and dry under my toes. Seagulls squawk on nearby rocks, fighting over crumbs of food left behind. I look up from my book to see my daughters deep in imagination land, participating in cooking classes they’ve designed especially for the beach. With rusty pots and pans full of sand carefully imprinted with various shell patterns, I think they are learning how to bake sand cakes—or maybe cookies—I really don’t know for sure.
I am hesitant to interrupt this imaginary world they’ve created, but I really need to pee, and I really don’t want to do it in the ocean. The time on my phone says it’s been an hour or two since lunch, so it’s probably a good time for a bathroom break anyhow. I rise from my beach chair, put my book on the seat, and take a few steps closer to where they are.
“Hey,” I say, and they raise their heads to look at me. “What are ya’ll working on?”
“We’re making sand cakes,” Eden says, before looking back to the creation in her lap.
“I need to go to the bathroom. Can you find your shoes so we can walk that way?” Autumn, her hands covered with dark, wet sand, looks up at me with her big hazel eyes and says, “I don’t really need to go. Can we just stay here?”
“Yeah, can we?” Eden joins in.
I feel my heart speed up. They’ve never asked to stay on the beach alone before, and I’m not really sure how to answer. I dig my toes into the sand, trying to process the gazillion thoughts running through my mind. On the one hand, the beach isn’t crowded today. There are only a handful of other families here; it’s not likely that my kids will be abducted while I walk to the bathroom. Their “cooking school” isn’t situated near the water; they are happily baking sand pastries on the hot rocks and there’s not much risk of drowning in the half-inch tide pool nearby. The bathroom is close—I can go and be back in ten minutes or less.
On the other hand, these are my babies! Can I really leave them alone on the beach?!
I remind myself they aren’t really babies anymore—they are seven and nine. Is it finally time to give them a little more independence? Could it really be true that after nine years of parenting I can finally go to the bathroom all alone?
“Let me think about it for a minute.” I walk back to my chair and grab my phone out of its side pocket. Starting to feel mixed emotions of fear and exhilaration at the prospect of going to the bathroom alone, I text David to get his opinion. “As long as they don’t go in the water,” he texts back; “it’s probably fine.”
I take a few moments to pull our chairs and blankets a few feet back from where we’ve been sitting. The tide is coming in slowly, but there’s no real threat that it will come up this far in the time it takes for me to pee. I’m really just doing this to prolong the decision I have to make. The blanket makes a swooshing sound along the sand, leaving a visible trail as I yank it from one spot to another just five feet away. I pick up my flip-flops and call Autumn over to where I’ve moved our gear. “I’m going to let you stay here while I go to the bathroom. Don’t get in the water. I’ll leave my phone with you. If anything weird happens, text Daddy. You know how to unlock the phone, right?”
Nodding her head, she tells me she knows the password and I chuckle. Of course she knows the password, I think, somehow kids always know how to figure them out. There’s a gleam of pride in her eyes; she’s always been wiser than her young years might suggest. I can tell she knows this is a big step for me, and I imagine she feels a little excitement at this new sense of responsibility I’ve just given her.
I walk over to Eden and tell her the same thing, emphasizing the part about not going in the water. She is my water-loving kid and the chilly New England water temperatures don’t keep her from running in. She’s typically respectful of my boundaries and has never given me a reason to believe she would jump in the water without me. I think I can trust her to stay put while I’m gone.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell them, and I walk away.
My heart feels like it might jump out of my chest as I walk towards the boardwalk. Every few steps, I turn to look back at them playing in the sand. They look so tiny on the beach, I think to myself, and I begin to pick up my pace.
I think about life just a few years ago; when they were two and four. The scene was similar; we were in our backyard instead of at the beach, and it was mud pies they were making instead of sand cakes. I told them I was going inside for a glass of water and you would have thought I told them I was leaving forever. “Wait Mama!” they would say; “I want to go! I don’t want to be out here alone!”
Now here they are, five years later, asking to be left on the beach while I walk to the bathroom out of their sight.
Hastily continuing towards the boardwalk, my feet swish through the crystalline sand; I pass two older women reading books in their chairs and my heart races. Will they notice I left my kids alone on the beach? Will they call the cops and report two children have been abandoned? Will they judge me? Or did they do the same thing once upon a time?
I know these are crazy thoughts. No one on this beach cares about me. They are enjoying their own solitude and peace. My racing heart is invisible to them. I’m not neglecting my children; I’m just going to the bathroom. Right?
I make it there in record time and say a brief prayer of gratitude that there’s no line. This feels silly because the beach is practically empty; the bathroom isn’t getting a lot of use today. I squat over the compost toilet; hear my pee trickle into the dark abyss. I wonder if my kids are okay. Has anyone noticed them alone on the beach? Will there be a lifeguard waiting for me when I get back?
After my bladder is relieved, I pull up my bikini bottoms and leave the stall. I contemplate leaving without washing my hands but we are still living in a pandemic. Besides, Ewww that’s gross. So I make bubbles vigorously and quickly—there’s no counting to twenty or singing the ABCs—shake my hands dry as I walk out the door.
I swing my empty arms, wishing I had my phone so I knew how long I’ve been gone. Or maybe I would document this moment in time with a selfie to show up in my memories later—The first time I went to the bathroom all alone. I briefly consider having a conversation with David about getting the girls their own phone for times such as this—and then I shake that thought away. It’s only been a few minutes. I’m sure they are fine.
I trot over the sand-strewn boardwalk, slowing my pace when I get back on the sand. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself. I nonchalantly walk past the women sitting in their chairs; I’m relieved to see they are still heavily engrossed in their books. I scan the horizon for my girls, but can’t quite make out whether or not they are in the same place. Nervous nausea begins to creep into the pit of my stomach, but after a few more steps, I see they are right where I left them. Still making sand cakes. Safe and sound.
I breathe a sigh of relief and plop myself down in my chair. My feet slide through the sand as I stretch out my legs and glance over to where my daughters play. I think we have just crossed over into big kid land, and I’m not really sure how I feel about that.
Is this what it will feel like to pee alone for the rest of my life?
This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Novel".
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We planted asparagus last year as a feeble experiment
in designing an edible perennial garden.
You should wait to harvest the first asparagus
for at least three years after planting;
it needs all its energy as an infant
to become a sustainable living thing.
But I couldn’t resist the temptation
and cut three stalks when they first appeared;
I ate them raw right out of the ground;
their crunch lingering on my tongue, sweeter than candy.
When the next stalks started to grow, we caged them
with old tomato cages lying in the yard and left it alone.
I gave up on tomatoes this year—
on all gardening really;
we don’t get enough sun
and I don’t have much patience or discipline
Yet the abandoned asparagus towers above the grass,
with its fluttering fronds and ruby red balls
like ornaments on a Christmas tree,
promising gifts to come.
Photo by Karina Miranda on Unsplash.
My house is a disaster. There are books and craft supplies on the floor of every room. And I have zero motivation to do anything about it.
My mind is swirling with things that need to happen in the next 24 hours. Clothes and food to pack. A car to clean. Essays to write for my critique group. Chapters to read. Laundry to do. And not one of those things feels optional.
If I don’t do the laundry, it will stink to high heaven when we get back. If I don’t read my chapters or write my pieces, I lose out on the one gift I’ve given myself this year. If I don’t pack … well, then we’ll be on vacation in a beautiful place … naked and hungry. And no one wants that.
We leave for Cape Cod tomorrow and I’ve done no packing or planning. This is an unusual trip for us. The first few days we’ll be in a motel, and then we’re camping in a yurt. Our previous trips to the Cape have been tent camping, and we’ve never lasted more than a night or two. After discovering cabin camping last summer, I made David promise he’d never make us sleep in a tent again (unless I beg him, and then he’ll oblige because he’s so good to me).
We’re taking a day trip to Martha’s Vineyard. And a day trip to Provincetown. And we’ll do a lot of biking and swimming in kettle ponds and reading in between. I have no idea what we’ll eat, or how we’ll use this week’s farm share. It’s not like me to leave planning until the last minute.
But for a few moments this morning, I simply allow myself to sit and breathe. To listen to the birds singing. I hear an oriole off in the distance. As the wind swishes through the daylily leaves in my front garden bed, the neighbors’ sprinklers turn on; watering grass that is so bright green it almost looks fake.
There’s a family of robins rustling in their nest in the rhododendron behind me. One baby was there a few days ago—there are more now. We wonder if the first baby was a cowbird rather than a robin. We’ve seen some cowbirds in the yard, so we know they are around. They are the bully of the birds. I never knew much about birds until I started homeschooling the girls. I learn just as much from teaching them as they learn from me.
The cool wind rushes over my hair, wet from my morning shower, and chill bumps form on my arms. Early summer is always like this in New England. Some days are brilliantly hot with clear skies and sunshine. On others, the sun stays hidden under a tent of clouds and the wind brings a chill, sending me inside to grab a cozy sweatshirt.
Massachusetts lifted all of its covid restrictions last weekend. No more capacity limits. No more mask requirements. While I still have slight worries about the risk to my kids, especially indoors, it feels mostly safe to go back to normal. Acknowledging there’s always a risk, we don’t want to be reckless, but we also don’t want fear to guide our decisions. We live in a place where the rates are low, there’s relatively low risk to kids, and the weather is finally warming up. So this summer we’re celebrating a return to some of our favorite pre-pandemic summer traditions: crowded beaches, a Cape camping trip, a dance recital, my book club, and Gloucester Block Parties.
We were eating dinner on our porch a few nights ago when I asked everyone to share one thing they want to do this summer. Autumn wants to have a picnic with her dance friends. Eden wants to have a birthday party and invite friends to play. With a piñata. David wants to be brave enough to swim in the ocean and maybe float there for a while. He’s crazy for that—water in New England is nothing like water in the Gulf of Mexico—but it’s his summer too, so if he wants to swim in icy water, I will cheer him on.
I want to teach the girls how to blow bubbles with Bubble gum. And make plans for the future. It sounds funny to be excited about planning for the future, but after a year of being afraid to plan because something might get canceled, it feels good to look forward to the future again.
What’s one thing you want to do this summer?
One of the greatest challenges in our CSA Adventures this year is that we get no selection on what we get each week. We’re receiving a prepacked share and there’s no swap table to swap out things you don’t think you’ll use. Instead of being bummed about it, I’ve decided to view it as a challenge, and have found all kinds of new ways to eat veggies!
This Grain Bowl is my new favorite quick lunch or dinner. It’s inspired by this recipe in the latest issue of Bon Appetit. I love it because I used TONS of veggies from my CSA shares. It’s super versatile, and you can really put anything in it. Try it out - and then come back here and let me know what veggies you snuck into yours!
1 cup cooked farro (or other grain - brown or black rice, barley, wheat berries, whatever is in your pantry)
2 boiled eggs
Orange Pickled Fennel (see recipe below)
Grapeseed other light-flavored oil
2 Tbsp lime juice
Sriracha to taste
1 tsp soy sauce
1 tsp toasted sesame oil
toasted sesame seeds
1/2 small zucchini, sliced in half moon shapes
1/2 small onion, sliced in small strips
1 cup thinly sliced raw veggies - I used shredded carrots, sliced cucumbers and scallions.
Saute' zucchini and onion in a small pat of butter with a glug of oil. If you have mushrooms, you can throw those in as well.
Make dressing - mix lime juice, 2 Tbsp oil, soy sauce, and sesame oil in a small bowl. Add salt & pepper to taste.
Put cooked farro in bottom of a large bottom bowl. Top with boiled egg, sauteed veggies, and boiled egg. Drizzle dressing on top. Garnish with cilantro, scallion greens, and toasted sesame seeds.
Slice fennel very thin using a mandolin and place in a bowl. Sprinkle kosher salt, mix well, and leave to sit for at least an hour. Pour fennel into a colander and squeeze to remove excess water. Return to bowl and combine with 1 small orange, sliced and 1/4 tsp ground pepper or 1 Tbsp whole peppercorns. Pack fennel and orange into a clean mason jar, and cover with apple cider vinegar. Stick in the refrigerator for at least 24 hours before enjoying. Should last 2-4 weeks in the fridge (but mine always get eaten way before they go bad).
Have you ever really looked at an eggplant? It’s a beautiful vegetable. Strikingly purple, it comes in various shades, shapes, and sizes. I remember the day when I first realized I liked eggplant. We got loads of it in our CSA in Atlanta, so I had to learn how to use it. Weelicious came to my rescue over and over again. And then I discovered Smitten Kitchen, who also gave me loads of ideas on how to use this summer beauty. I’ve branched out a bit since then, but still remain true to my favorites.
Three weeks ago, we got our first eggplant in our CSA share. I was with a friend, who refused to put eggplant in her bag, and I promptly chose one and threw it in her bag for her. “But I don’t like eggplant,” she said. “WHAT?! It’s so yummy! You just have to find the right recipe. Get one. Try it. I’ll send you my favorites.”
If you, like my friend, are getting tons of eggplant that you just don’t know what to do with, I’m coming to your rescue. I’ve made it my mission to help you fall in love with what I think is probably one of the most underrated vegetables out there. Today, I share with you what I think are the very best eggplant recipes out there. Try out a few … and come back and let me know what you think. I want to know what your favorites are!
Eggplant Burgers - These are a staple in our house. We literally make hundreds of them every summer, and my kids eat them all winter long. When I don’t know what to feed them, I grab an eggplant burger out of the freezer, pop it in the oven, and serve it with a smoothie on the side. You should hear the cheers when I say “Want an eggplant burger for lunch?”
Eggplant Parm Melts - Deb has taught me that you can turn anything into an open faced sandwich and it be a hit. These are quick and easy, and who doesn’t love that on a summer weeknight?
Eggplant Calzone - This may be my absolute favorite beat-the-winter-blues meal. When I’m overloaded with summer eggplant, I roast the small ones and freeze them in pre-measured baggies. It makes it easy to grab a bag in the morning, and make a calzone at night. My kids don’t like these, but I just make them a cheese pizza ;-). I make the recipe in this cookbook, but this recipe looks pretty scrumptious too.
Sautéed Eggplant with Honey - Can we talk about surprising recipes that my children LOVE? This is one of them. I think they ate an entire small eggplant between the two of them when I made this last week. You soak the eggplant in milk overnight (although I’ll be honest, sometimes it gets soaked for 2 nights), lightly coat it in flour mixed with salt, and saute in olive oil. This is a summer favorite. We serve it with a side of fruit (maybe watermelon or cantaloupe or peaches and blueberries) and sometimes corn on the cob, depending on what we’ve picked up at the farm that week.
Roasted Eggplant with Yogurt and Tomato Relish - if you’re an eggplant hater, don’t start with this recipe. If you love eggplant, you’ll love this. It’s one of my favorite summer lunches. No one else in the family likes it though, so I keep this one as a personal indulgence. But I could’t leave it off a list of favorites!
Smoky Eggplant Dip - this is a new favorite. A friend came over last week and her 7-year-old devoured the bowl I had stashed in my fridge. I love it served with small pitas or flatbread dippers, or homemade baguettes, or a plateful of raw veggies. I’m going to experiment with freezing it this year - we’ll see how it goes!
Quinoa-crusted Eggplant & Zucchini Parmesan - This one is not fast. Nor is it easy. But ya’ll …. this recipe is out of this world delicious. You can use any pasta sauce, but this marinara is the best I’ve ever had and takes this recipe up to the next level. This is a great celebration meal. Or if you’re insane like me, it’s a great meal to double or triple when you’re up to your eyeballs with zucchini and eggplant and stash it in the freezer for when you want something that feels luxurious but you don’t want to cook.
Pasta with Eggplant Puree - My 5-year-old begged for this recipe last week. It’s SO easy, and so delicious. It also freezes well, so I make several batches and toss it in the freezer for winter. You can use it over any pasta, but the small chunky noodles are my favorite. I think it’d be great with grilled chicken on top.
Roasted Eggplant Soup - For all you soup lovers out there, this is a good one. It doesn’t have the best look, but the taste is out of this world and it’s also a good freezer recipe. In the winter (or really early Spring, when I’m craving Summer), I pull it out and add some white beans and croutons and it feels like a real gourmet treat.
Ratatouille - No summer would be complete without a good ratatouille, am I right? Just the name ratatouille is fun to say, and this recipe is suuuuuuuuper easy, extra freezable, and gives you so many options later down the road. My favorite way to use it is to put it on a pizza crust or flatbread with some goat cheese. Pop it in a 400-degree oven for a bit and you have a better lunch than you can buy anywhere. The chicken stew recipe in the link is pretty delicious too. It’s great served over pasta, and I think you could even throw it in a risotto and find it to be delicious.
There you have it - ten favorite eggplant recipes to get you trying something new. Now you have no excuse to let that beautiful eggplant sit unloved! What will you try first?
Photo by Nina Luong on Unsplash.
It's no secret that I love books. At any given time, I have at least 3 books stacked on my bedside table - sometimes more - all in progress. When I was younger, my mom would regularly find me in my bed late at night with a book. In grade school, all of my teachers said I had read every book on the classroom shelf.
Remember the scene in The NeverEnding Story where Bastion is hiding under the blanket reading a magical book in the attic, and then he pulls out his sandwich and coke for lunch without stopping? That was my childhood dream ... to read in a secret place all the way through lunch and dinner. Like Bastion, I was often pulled into the story I was reading - in a way that made the characters feel real, and made me feel alive. People often ask me,
Believe it or not, there have been times in my life when I go months without reading a book - but at the end of the year, I always end up reading at least 2 books or month as an average. Some months I fly through books - and there are other months that I end up savoring one or two books (mostly the nonfiction ones). There's just something magical about a well-written story, and it's often a book that gets me out of a mind rut. So today, I give you my top ten hints on how to read more books.
I'm not talking about reading books to them - although that's super important too - I'm talking about taking time yourself to read your stuff while they are around. It's important for them that they see you enjoying books. And it's important for your own mental sanity! For me, this means taking 20-30 minutes first thing in the morning to read a few chapters. Usually the girls will curl up next to me with their own books. Some days we talk about what we’ve been reading. Although Eden can’t read words, she will often tell me the story she’s been reading - either from having had it memorized or from looking at pictures.
Wherever you go. You never know when you might end up waiting in a line far longer than you would like. Or when you'll end up at a farm with a play space that you had no idea about (True story ... totally happened to me. We were there for 90 minutes ... and I had forgotten my book!) I've been known to read a book standing in line at the grocery store. This is called using your fringe moments (there's a book on that too!) Once you become aware of the opportunities in your day where you can read, you'll realize you actually do have quite a bit of wasted space in your day!
I can't remember the last time I actually watched TV. We have one in the basement - but it hardly ever gets used. We cancelled our cable when we first got married over eight years ago in an attempt to save money, and we haven't missed it since. In fact, it's quite the opposite - the noise of the TV bothers me terribly. I'd much rather have music playing - or live in silence - than hear the constant sound of chatter. And don't even get me started on commercials. Give me a book over TV any day.
Turn off your computer. Delete social media from your phone and download the free Kindle app. Sign up for the daily deals to get really cheap e-books. Or use Overdrive to download library books for free. You'd be amazed how much more reading you do when you don't have the ability to mindlessly scroll through Instagram and Facebook.
Start small. Maybe it's one book a month. Setting a reading goal for yourself can help encourage you along the way. When you reach the goal, give yourself a pat on the back - or a big scoop of ice cream - as a reward. You'll have a new story in your head, you'll be a little bit smarter, and you'll feel amazing about yourself!
I recently joined Audible on a whim (because I got two free audiobooks with a 30-day trial), and it's been amazing for helping me - and the girls - enjoy books in a different way. I love that I can "read" while doing laundry, brushing my teeth, cooking dinner, cleaning up, driving from place to place. I have also noticed my laundry gets put away and my house cleaned way faster when I'm listening to a book - mostly because I look around to find mindless tasks to do so that I can listen to just one more chapter. If you don't want a monthly commitment to Audible, you can also listen to audiobooks from your library using Overdrive or Libby, or you can snag daily deals on Audible. (You can get a free 30 day Audible trial with 2 free credits. There's no penalty if you cancel after snagging your two free books - and they are yours to keep forever and ever. Why not try it out?!)
I'm all for challenging yourself to read something outside of your comfort zone. It makes us better readers. It makes us smarter. It helps us see the world differently. But the reality is, if I’m not loving a book, I read some reviews. If they are overwhelmingly good, I try to push through. If they are mediocre, I give up. There have been several books that I've put down as "mediocre" to only later pick up again and completely adore by the time I've finished it. Sometimes I find my head isn't in the right space to finish it - so I simply save it for later. Sometimes I find it to be nothing like I expected - so if the reviews are overwhelmingly good, I try to challenge myself to push through to the end. But in the end, if I'm not feeling it - I close it and not look back. I give myself the freedom to pick it up again another day - or to just leave it on the unread shelf. Don't get stuck in a book that you just don't like. There are too many good books out there to read something that is mediocre.
I try to vary what I’m reading. If I read a hard book, I follow up with an easy beach read. I want to enjoy reading - and too much of the same thing can become boring after a while. I like to think of my reading list as a feast, with several different courses, that I can move between fluidly. Sometimes our life is such that we just need to escape with an easy-to-read children's literature award winner. Sometimes we want a little spice between the pages. Sometimes we want to dig deep into an old beloved classic. Listen to your brain - and give it a variety of options.
You can do this in an old fashioned pen and paper journal or you can do it online. I ADORE Goodreads. There's something so exhilarating about finishing a book and marking it as "Read" on my Goodreads list. It not only makes me feel good about finishing a book, but it also helps me make sure I'm reading a variety of things. I also love that I can see what my friends are reading - especially in times when I'm feeling in a reading rut and don't know what to read next.
Libraries are precious commodities. With no money in your pocket - or your bank account - you can go into a library, register for a library card, and leave with a stack of books. If you get home and decide you don't like one, it's okay ... you simply return it the next week and you haven't wasted any money! I like to place holds on books using the online catalog. The librarians pull the books for me and I can walk right in and check them out from the desk. It's like online shopping for books ... but totally free! If you aren't sure what to read, walk around the library stacks and check out the end caps to see what librarians have put out. I have often chosen a book simply by its cover - or its name. Librarians also LOVE to talk about books ... so don't be afraid to ask them what they recommend. Our library will even give you a custom book list based on your answering a few questions about what you like and are interested in. Or - if you're feeling really bold - ask any random person you see in the library what their favorite book is. You'll get a book recommendation AND you might make a friend in the process!
So there you have it. My top ten hints for reading more books. Now go get your summer reading game on! And tell me .... what will you read next?
Photo by Christin Hume on Unsplash.
This post was originally published in April 2015 when we lived in the cutest little bungalow in Atlanta. Since we left that house, I've longed for a new home that had the same feeling of home. This weekend, we hung up our clothesline in our new home on the North Shore of Massachusetts. It's funny ... that simple act of hanging a clothesline ... it feels symbolic in some ways. No longer are we wandering along a road, searching for a place to hang our hats. We are finally settled. And it feels so so good. Although our house isn't 100 years old, and there's no road that runs directly beside our new clothesline, so much of this post rings as true today as it was 3 years ago. And yes ... the picture is new :-).
I stand outside basking in the sunshine while I hang clothes on the line. Get a pin, hang it up, get a pin, hang it up. There’s something so calming about doing the laundry this way.
It’s such a sensory experience. I feel the dampness of the clothes as I pull them from the basket and put them on the line. I smell the fragrance of detergent and fabric softener. I hear cars driving, people walking, and the occasional airplane overhead. I see the many different colors in the clothes we wear daily.
And it’s no different in the taking them down. The dampness is gone – replaced with warm dryness, and sometimes that stiffness that only the sun can give. The smell has shifted to the clean smell of sunshine. We hear the siren of a fire engine; the neighbors’ dogs barking as people walk by. The sun is so warm you can almost taste it – making you long for a very cold glass of water.
As I do this work – the work of hanging up our laundry – the little ones play around me. Throwing sand out of the sandbox, picking leaves and flowers off the plants that have been patiently waiting for the arrival of spring, inspecting the world in only the way tinies can.
People walking by sometimes stop to chat, commenting on the clothesline or the flowers we just put in. Sometimes it’s a familiar face, other times it’s a complete stranger just finding their way to their car parked down the street.
I can’t help but think back to when the house was built, over 100 years ago. Some mother did just as I now do, grab a pin, hang it up, grab a pin, hang it up. Talking to the neighbors as they walk by. Watching her little ones run around in this very same yard – I can’t help but wonder what it looked like back then.
In just a few short weeks, we have made doing laundry this way a part of our life. I find myself checking the weather at night to see if there will be sunshine to dry my clothes the next day. Hanging clothes up on the line even on cloudy days, in hopes that even a little bit of fresh air will do a tiny bit of good. I get disappointed if a day goes by and that little clothesline of mine is empty.
It’s funny how something so simple – and seemingly old fashioned – can bring such a smile to our faces. This business of hanging up clothes forces me to slow down and enjoy my surroundings. We’re all so much happier when we are outside; it just makes sense to do the daily business of life outside. The things of nature – the trees, the wind, the birds, the squirrels, the neighborhood owls – they all remind us that we are just one tiny part of the vast world that we live in.
God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good.
It's 7:50am on a Wednesday morning. My house is a complete disaster - boxes in every room ... some full, others waiting to be packed. Every room has stuff everywhere ... and if I look around and think about it for just a second, I end up on the verge of a panic attack. But the tiniest begged to watch Madeline, and the older tiny just got on the bus for her next-to-last day of school, so I am ignoring all the mess and using the time to write. Just write.
We are about to close yet another chapter on our "Rowes Move to Boston" adventure. We hope this is the last ... and that the next chapter becomes it's own book. It's been a long road - one that has many twists and turns. It's been a lot of wandering. A lot of wondering just what we were doing. A lot of questioning just what in the world God has in store for us here.
It was almost exactly two years ago when we received the call inviting us to come to Boston for the first time. We planned a vacation around my husband's interview - knowing that this would be a huge move, and a decision he wouldn't be able to make on his own. I remember that week so vividly. The hotels we stayed in. The adventures we had. The Boston Common, the Public Gardens, Copley Square, Boston Public Library, Franklin Park Zoo, Historic Lexington, the Boston Children's Museum ... it was one of the best vacations we've taken as a family. I could live here, I told him. I think we'd really love it here.
The day of his interview I took the girls to the most amazing playspace I had ever seen. They were so tired by the end of the day that I ended up walking half a mile from the bus stop to our hotel wearing a sleeping A on my back and carrying a sleeping E in my arms, while also carrying our bag for the day. What was supposed to be a 2-hour interview turned into 5. We took that as a good sign.
I can remember our conversation that evening as clear as day - we were on the T, headed to dinner.
If this happens, we can't say no. It's an incredible opportunity. There's no reason not to take it. Massachusetts is one of the best places to raise kids. You can go back to school for very little cost. This is a no-brainer.
And then it happened. He got the offer. We said yes. And it wasn't until we had a buyer for our little Grant Park bungalow that the reality set in for me. We were leaving everything I had ever wanted. Grant Park was my dream. I had fabulous neighbors. I lived across the street from a beautiful park. An incredible farmer's market was just blocks away. We could walk to one of the best zoos in the nation. We spent our free time at art museums, botanical gardens, history museums, parks. All of our memories were in Atlanta ... and we were giving it all up.
I remember a friend telling me it would all be okay. You guys build community wherever you go. You'll find your village. You'll find your tribe. And so with those words in our mind, we left our home in search of a brighter future.
We never thought it would be easy, but I can't say we expected it to be as difficult as it has been. Building our village here has been so hard - and so slow. We've made incredible friends - yet this place has never really felt like home.
When we last visited Georgia as a family, we were wrecked. When we walked through the park, I sobbed like a baby. This is my home. I want to come home, I said. I cried out to God ... literally ... in tears as we went to bed at night.
God ... please ... I want to come home. This is where I want to be. Please. Please. PLEASE! I'm begging you.
We made a plan. We decided D would look for jobs and we would hope to be home by Christmas. We contacted friends and neighbors who may have leads for openings. He called old companies, sent in proposals, updated resumes. With as big a network as we have, and as skilled as he is, we thought it would only be a matter of months before we had an opportunity to go back South.
And then I had lunch with a dear friend of mine. She was the first friend I made here - and quickly became the best friend I've had in all my adult life. As we watched our kids play together, I told her - I'm not sure I'm ready to go back. I don't want to stay. But I don't know that I want to go back. She's so wise - this friend of mine. I will be crushed if you leave. But I want you to be happy. And I don't think you're happy where you are. Are there places here that you could live that you might like better than where you are right now?
So while we were looking for opportunities back home, we also started searching for a community here that would be more like home. We looked at train lines. I talked to people. Summer came - finally - and we ventured out to find beaches and splash pads and all things outdoors. We discovered Beverly. And as I drove through it for the very first time, it reminded me of home. It was gritty - and yet beautiful. It was historic - and yet slightly urban. It had beaches. Parks. Playgrounds. A splash pad. Coffee shops. Museums. The best Mexican we've had since we moved to Massachusetts. It had sidewalks.
You could say we fell in love. Hard and fast. After just one day there, the girls and I came home so happy that D said I need to go see this place. So we went back. Over and over and over again. And every single time we visited, we were filled to the brim. After just two months, we decided we'd move there. Sure, we had a house to sell - but we felt confident this was a move God was pushing us to make. We felt like this was the answer to our prayers.
God wasn't going to let us move home ... because there is a better home for us here. We just had to find it.
Stay tuned for the rest of the story - coming one week from today!
EDIT - You can read part two of the story here!